


Stud Farming for Dummies!

by Higgystar



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Gen, LivestockAU, M/M, Master/Pet, Master/Slave, Multi, Other, Rickyl
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-07 21:32:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11067552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Higgystar/pseuds/Higgystar
Summary: After being shot, Rick Grimes makes some changes. Moving away from the city, he tries to start anew, looking for the easy, calm, safe life of a farmer. Then he acts on impulse, and saves a stock human from being put down. Daryl Dixon comes into his ownership, and the quiet life Rick had been planning on, doesn't look like it's going to happen anytime soon.LivestockAU, inspired by the gorgeous fanart by kaicho224 on tumblr.





	Stud Farming for Dummies!

Early retirement. It’s what they’d called it, when in reality he just couldn’t face going in to work and doing the same old shit anymore. After the shooting he’d not been the same, and nobody had understood that. He didn’t want the fast paced life of being a cop anymore, having to be violent every single day, having to be the one in control, having to be stern and remember the right way to handle situations. Rick wanted a different life, an easier life, a quiet life. So he’d cashed it all in, taken what he could get and been pleased that he’d been able to get everything he could after the shooting.

It’s a decent amount of money. He’s not rich by any means, but it’s enough to get out of Atlanta and get moved into somewhere smaller, quieter, where the most crime seen was someone’s car getting keyed. It’s easier in King’s County; the little place he’s got is on the edge of town, near to local farmland and full of fresh air. He loves it. It’s a step away from the chaos of big city life, and now he’s here, he knows he’s made the right choice.

Things move slower here. There is no rush, no need to get everything done in as fast a time as possible. He can breathe here, and things are easier. Of course he has to have a way of providing for himself, and maybe it’s not the most grand of plans, but he’s got plans in the works to become a farmer. Maybe he won’t be a millionaire, but he’s okay with that. Stock doesn’t appeal to him, even of his new place has a kennel building with it. The space is large enough for a decent sized pack if he wanted, but he’s never had the want to own stock, and he instead wants to focus on something simpler. Vegetables perhaps.

A week. He’s been out here a week, things are falling into place already and he’s proud of that. The house is small, an old farmhouse with kennels attached but he’s only got himself to think about, and already he’s been tilling the soil and making his own vegetable garden. It’ll be hard work, but he’s got the time for it, and now he feels like he can take the time to enjoy it for all it is. Life is easier from this point of view, full of dirt beneath his fingernails and sweat on the back of his neck. It’s nice, and Rick finds himself looking forward to spending the rest of his life just enjoying this new mellow atmosphere he’s created around himself.

The neighbours are kindly. The Greenes especially help him out, even lending some of their own farming tools to him when it’s obvious he’s not thought everything through right away. Hershel smiles and gives him tips, making sure he thinks about the weather and how to help coax new seedlings to fend for themselves against caterpillars and the rain. Rick is given seeds, tools, and advice, all for free. This place is nothing like the city, the people here are too kind, too caring and willing to give without even the thought of getting anything in return. It’s a breath of fresh air.

“You should try out the farmers’ market on Saturday.” Hershel tells him, the old vet helping to carry more tools out to Rick’s jeep even if he’s got an artificial leg. If that’s not a show of strength, Rick doesn’t know what is. Hershel has been through hell, lost a son to war, lost a leg to a bad infection, but he’s still kind enough to help out a city slicker who wants to escape the real world. Rick is grateful, and he knows he can only rely on the kindness of neighbours for so long. “They’ve got everything you’ll need there, and more. I can draw up a list of essentials for getting started, plus if you tell them I sent you, they’ll give you the better deals.” The old man tells him with a smile.

“Thank you. I appreciate it a lot Hershel.” Rick is grateful, he’s grateful for everything and he can’t believe just how different things are here.

“Don’t mention it. We’ve all been through hardships, if I can help a little by doing this for you then I’m happy. Can’t let a city boy like yourself flounder out here by himself.” Hershel laughs, piling the rest of the supplies in the back of Rick’s truck. “You’d get eaten alive.”

He’s been a cop for so long, had to deal with the worst of the human race, been shot and left for dead by the scum of the earth, and woken from a coma to find it all too much. Yet he believes Hershel, if he doesn’t get himself settled and find a new way of life soon, he is going to struggle. He needs something to focus on, something to keep him going when sometimes everything seems dark. It will be easier out here, where the sunlight doesn’t have to go through so many clouds of crap to get to him.

Rick takes Hershel’s advice and heads out to the farmer’s market that weekend, ready to get to know the townspeople and see if he could find what he needs. The place is busy, busier than he’d expected, and even if King’s County is a quiet place, that doesn’t mean there aren’t other working people here in need of supplies. So he parks up, and begins making his way around the rented fields, dipping into tents and stalls for supplies. Things feel fresher here, everyone is bubbly, milling about, eating fresh produce, making deals and even if this is the life he’s chosen, he still feels a little out of place. In his life before he’d have been frustrated with mud caking his jeans almost to his knees, but here it feels right, feels authentic, and it makes it all feel a little bit more like home.

Most of the time he’s getting what’s on his list from Hershel. Picking up tools, seeds, trying to get good deals but fairly certain he’s being charged more simply because he’s new to all of this. Not that he minds, he’s got the time to practice his haggling technique, after all this isn’t some mid life crisis that’ll only last a few months. This was his life now, and he’s loving it.

Sure he misses some aspects of the old Rick’s life. He misses Carl and Judith every single day, but he calls them, they understand that he and Lori are no longer together, and that once he gets himself settled they can come and visit. Lori tells him about how they’re doing in school, she thanks him for continuing to help pay for the place even if they’re separated, and Rick loves that even if they can’t be together anymore, they’re still friends. Still partners when it comes to raising their children and he knows Lori understands just how much being in that coma damaged a part of him deep inside.

King’s County is helping soothe that pain.

Each stall holds more things he’s never seen or heard of, and it’s fascinating to fall into this world out here. In the city everyone was so clean cut, so focussed on money and their job, careers and being everything they had been told to be. He’d arrested everyone from homeless men to women at debutante balls, and they were all the same. So focussed on a life laid out to them by others, feeling the need to achieve and terrified of failure. Goals and rules laid out by society and making everyone need to pop pills or see therapists just to get through the day and not hate themselves so badly.

But here he can look through stalls, pick up gifts for his children, walk his way through mud and dirt, and end up having conversations with people he doesn’t know with no fear of strangers. Everybody here has a more basic way of living, a way of being grateful for the smaller things and where prayers at night were only for a decent summer season for the crops. He’s finding what he needs here in more ways than one. It’s not too long before he’s got everything on the list as well as a few extra things, and once that’s all in the truck he’s pausing before he leaves. If he was going to get to know the place, then he may as well have a good look around, and there was still plenty more to see at the market.

Stalls, food trolleys, families milling around and eating cotton candy between playing fairground games, the place is buzzing but he can see that by far the most busy area is the livestock trading tents. Rick has seen stock humans before of course, at least half of the households in the country had one as a pet after all, but he’s not seen this side of it. To him stock humans were pets, something to coddle and coo over, and he’s only ever seen them clothed and clean. But out here they weren’t pets. Out here stock humans were business. Big business.

The tent is crammed full of crowds, people moving up and down the rows of pens and stands to see the stock humans brought out for auction. There are at least a couple of hundred here and Rick is fascinated by it all. Stock humans had been bred for centuries, their primary purpose was to be pets for humans, something to show off for the upper classes. Over the years they have been bred into many different varieties, alongside dogs, they had been bred for specific purposes. Some were workers used for physical labour, some were lap pets, there was service stock to help those in need, guard stock used to security purposes, some were maids or servants, others were show pets that were pure bred to win championship titles. There were a huge variety of stock humans in the world, but out here in King’s County, Rick knows the kind in front of him.

Breeders.

The selling of stock humans was a business, and there had to be supply to meet the demand. Like cattle, or sheep, or pigs, or dogs and cats, there had to be those that produced the goods to sell on the market, and those were the people out here at the auction. Farmers who made their living off breeding stock humans, selling them to the highest bidder and getting their names out there and attached to the best stock out there. Looking around Rick can’t help but be interested in it all, because it’s a side of the world he hasn’t seen.

Pens and pens of stock humans are in rows, their owners alongside, some showing off their goods and trying to make a deal. Though Rick knows stock can be sold at all ages, today it’s only breeding studs and bitches, separated by sex in their pens and clearly all ready for auction. Some are being shown off on stage, their owners standing beside them with pride, blue ribbons pinned over their chests as they run their hands over their stock, talking to potential buyers and showing off qualities they’ve been honing through their breeding programmes. There are a variety of breeders here, Rick can hear champion names being called over the loudspeaker, the announcers boasting about three generations of quality stock coming from a specific breeder’s stud or bitch. Already people are gathering for the main event, the auction for mating rights with some of the purebred champions that are here today.

Moving down the row of pens, he can’t help but reach in to pet a few of the stock humans that reside in them as he talks to their owners. Rick has to shake his head and decline any offers thrown his way, he may have kennels attached to his new home, but he doesn’t intend to step into the roll of master to any stock humans soon. It’s looks like a lot of hard work, and he doesn’t know if he wants any hard work out here right now. But he’ll enjoy seeing this side of the business, and he has to admit some of the higher-level stock in here looks to be going for a lot of money. The auctions go on around him, he can hear deals between breeders, some for a few bucks, some for a considerable amount more and he has to admit that he does listen a little more intently when he hears amounts rising into the high hundreds, some even into the thousands.

He knows sometimes high market trading can be intense, and intense situations tend to bring out the worst in people, but everything is amicable as far as he can see. Deals are being made with shaken hands and signed documents, people are being congratulated for winning bids, and he’s enjoying just being allowed to see inside this interesting new world. Heading down the pens he looks over them all, the signs affixed to pens giving the details of the breeders as well as the main traits they have in their stock. The bitches’ signs boast of decent birthing hips, regular periods, high fertility and calm temperaments, quality breeders up for rental at respectable prices. The studs’ signs were more of the same, enlarged prostates, good muscle mass, a lot of rich semen, strength, available for rental mating sessions, or monthly samples delivered by courier. All of them good breeders, assuring successful matings 99% of the time apparently.

Rick is reading through the paperwork of one group of young females, debating if buying the kids a pet would be considered spoiling them rotten and trying to make up for his absence; when he hears it. Down the way is a ruckus, shouting, the sound of violence, and he doesn’t know if it’s his training or instinct that makes him head in that direction. People are gathering around, forming a crowd as he pushes through, trying not to shove as he tries to find the source of it all.

In the centre of the commotion is a stock human, curled in a ball as he’s beaten with a riding crop, whimpering and whining with each blow that strikes his body. Above him stand two men, both arguing, the one with the riding crop looking absolutely furious as he beats the stock human on the floor.

“Worthless piece of shit!” The man snarls, his arm snapping back and forth with a vicious force, whipping out more noises of distress from the stock human beneath him. “That’s almost three hundred bucks worth of product you cost me! You’re not worth even half of that, you defective, useless little prick.”

“Your product? I want compensation for the product he cost me!” Snarls the other man, shoving at the owner of the stud on the floor. He looks pissed as hell, and Rick has a feeling this isn’t going to end well. “Those are champion studs in my pen! The fact you would pen a reject like that next to them shows how idiotic you are! I want that runt put down!” The man demands, and Rick is surprised when the owner doesn’t protest.

He has no idea what the hell went on, but the owner is nodding, snatching up a head collar and dragging up the stock human’s head by his hair so he can affix it. The bands of leather act as a muzzle, snaring the stud’s face, keeping his mouth closed as he whines. Rick watches as the owner yanks on the attached leash, making the stud try to tug back, obviously more than aware of what’s been decided, and trying to break free. The stock human jerks and struggles, scrabbling against the ground, whining and trying to save himself from his fate. But it’s no good, with the head collar controlling all his movements there is no way he can get loose. It seems to satisfy the man who had demanded the stud be put down, as he leaves with a scowl and returns back to his penned champion studs.

“Fucking waste of space.” The owner snarls, practically dragging the poor thing across the ground, gravel and dirt scuffing through the skin of his palms and knees. “Ain’t worth a damned dime, costing me nothing but time, effort and money.” The stud whines, Rick can see blood forming from scrapes and cuts on his skin, but that’s not the worst thing that’s going to happen to the poor creature today. “Get moving! Time for you to be put down!” The owner snarls, kicking at the stud’s ribs, making him yelp and whimper again.

Rick knows he’s new to this. He knows he’s a city slicker, he knows this is not his place and he doesn’t know a damned thing about this life. But he knows who he is, he knows what morals he lives by and he knows he cannot just stand on the sidelines when some poor creature was going to have his life ended prematurely.

“Wait!” He’s stepping forward, stopping the owner from dragging the stud through the crowd to the nearest vet’s station. Shoving a hand in his pocket he barely registers what he’s doing until he’s yanking free his wallet, dragging out a few bills and waving them at the owner. “I’ll take him.” His mouth seems to be moving miles ahead of his brain, but he can’t stop himself. Doesn’t want to stop himself because he cannot let this stud be killed. “I’ll give you fifty bucks for him.”

“Fifty bucks?” The owner snorts, looks pissed, but at least he’s stopped, the stud still struggling to pull away from him. There is another kick to the stud’s side, he whines, flinches and ducks his head, looking unsure and afraid. But Rick stands strong, takes a step closer to the owner and makes sure he looks certain in his decisions. The owner shakes his head with a laugh, yanking on the head collar enough to make the stud bark out a cough. “You think fifty bucks is enough for a stud?”

“You said he was a worthless piece of shit.” Rick shrugs, hands on his hips and looking the other man up and down. He used to be a cop; it’s difficult to feel intimidated when he’s stared down the barrel of a gun before. Heck, he’s been shot before, staring down some abusive stock owner was nothing. “Fifty bucks for a piece of shit isn’t a bad deal. Probably the only offer you’re gonna get for him after the scene you just caused.” He nods to the stud on the ground, noting the way he’s peeking up through his hair at him in utter confusion.

“Why the fuck do you want this…” But the owner pauses, glances down to the stud on the ground at his feet. The stock human ducks his head, breaking his gaze off of Rick and looking at the floor as he should. He’s shivering, bruised, with whip marks on his back, dirty, and clearly afraid for his life. Rick’s never seen a more desperate looking creature in his life. His heart is in his throat as he holds out the money, fingers twitching, waiting for the other man to come to a decision. It shouldn’t feel like such a relief when the other man sighs, shakes his head and yanks on the leash one last time for good measure. “You know what, you want him? Deal.”

The money is snatched from his fingers, and the leash is shoved into Rick’s hand. His fingers curl around it, holding it tightly and following the line down to look at the stud at the other end of it. His stud now.

Well shit.

For a moment he’s lost, just staring down at the still trembling mess of a stock human on the ground. Around him continues the life of the auction, numbers being called, auctioneers commenting on the good qualities shown in some of the champion stock, and here he is with a stud barely worth fifty bucks. A stud that was deemed worthless enough to be put down. A stud that was apparently defective. A stud that was now his. And he has no clue what the hell to do with it.

Double shit.

“Hey, you need paperwork.”

“What?” Blinking himself out of his stupor, he finds the owner, previous owner, of the stud watching him, head cocked to the side with curiosity.

“You need paperwork.” The other man repeats, looking him up and down, pocketing Rick’s money and giving a little smirk. “Every stud needs his paperwork, everybody knows that…” He trails off, nodding for Rick to follow him back to his pen, away from the problem _his_ stud had caused. Looking down to the stud at his feet, Rick swallows back the uncertainty and gives a gentle tug on the leash, it seems a simple enough instruction for his stud to understand, and as he follows the previous owner he has his new responsibility following along at his feet.

The stud sticks close, moving on his hands and knees and keeping up with Rick’s pace easily enough. He seems calmer now, clearly aware that he’s at least safe from being put down, and even a little curious at the new owner he has at the end of his leash. Rick tries not to think about it too much, because if he does then he’s going to probably end up swearing loudly about his lack of control. This was meant to be a new start sure, but he had never intended to suddenly be the owner of a damned stud. Standing by the old owner’s table, he reads over the signs there. They promise quality studs with quality product, available as either hourly mating slots or samples delivered right to your door for artificially inseminating your bitches.

So why was his barely worth fifty bucks?

“Alright, let’s get this over and done with.” The previous owner, Phillip Blake if the signs are correct, tells him. He looks hardened, a little pissed off to have been caught out on the price of his stud, but at least he’s following through with the deal and not having the stock human killed. Rick tightens his grip on the leash, watching as the other man sifts through files of paperwork before finding the correct one. “You want to take this reject off my hands, that’s fine by me.”

Phillip begins filling in a form of sale, ticking the right boxes and signing on the dotted lines. Rick glances over it all, looking over the birth certificate of his stud and noting his name. Daryl Dixon. There are other certificates behind that one, a family tree, medical forms, authentication of stock, and one that catches his eye. Dixon bloodline, three generations of hardy breeders. So his stud was of decent descent, but still enough of a problem to potentially be put down. Looking down he finds his stud kneeling up against the side of the pen, sniffing at one of the other studs held in there. He’s whining a little, pawing at the other stud, they seem to have a connection as they huff and hum to each other through the bars, head butting and nuzzling in a friendly manner.

“What did he do that was that bad?” Rick asks. Daryl doesn’t seem aggressive, even when being dragged to his own death the stud hadn’t been growling. He seems to be getting on alright with the stud he’s licking at, and for someone to want to get rid of a third generation breeding stud, he had to have done something phenomenally awful.

“That’s your problem now.” Phillip grins, passing over a pen and pointing out where he needs to sign. Rick frowns but does as he needs to, taking the invoice and flicking through the paperwork inside of the file he’s handed. There is an awful lot; he’d never thought owning a stud would be so much paperwork. “Couldn’t have picked a worse specimen for your first stud.”

Rick doesn’t care to seem polite anymore. The other man has shown his colours, ready to kill a stock human for what can’t have been anything serious. So he scoffs, looks down his nose to the other man and stands between him and his stud. “How do you know he’s my first?” He asks.

“It’s obvious.” Phillip smiles, looking smug, like he’s won a battle Rick hadn’t even known they were having. “Only a virgin breeder would buy stock without a thorough inspection. No asking about bloodlines, no want of proof of quality, hell you never even physically inspected your stud before you bought him.” Phillip is practically grinning now, and Rick doesn’t care to argue about his inexperience when it is that obvious.

“Maybe I’m not looking to be a breeder. Maybe I’m just looking for a pet.” He points out.

Then Phillip really is all out laughing, slapping at his knee and making heads turn in their direction. Rick can feel when Daryl curls further in on himself. “You really are out of your depth here. You just bought yourself a stud. He’s not a pet, not a worker, not a servant, or a show champion. He is a stud. That’s all he’s good for, and he’s not even good at that. I give it a week before you’re having him put down.” Phillip explains, and Rick is scowling at him for that.

It’s true, he’s not sure what the hell he’s doing, but he knows it can’t be that hard. Even if he just manages to keep Daryl fed, watered and happy, it would be better than having his life ended prematurely. He knows he can do that. “I’d never put a creature down for being difficult. I’m not that sort of man.” He tells him, tightening the grip he has on the leash.

“Neither was I. Only reason he’s lasted so long is his name.” Phillip shrugs, gesturing back to the penned studs and at the one still nuzzling at Daryl through the bars. “His brother is decent at least.” When Phillip gets to his feet Rick can feel Daryl tense up, curling in on himself to be a smaller target to the taller man. There is a growl from the penned stud, Daryl’s brother apparently, but the studs must know their place, because neither of them dare to snap or snarl when Phillip grabs at the head collar still strapped around Daryl’s face. “One last thing to do.”

The hand held bolt cutters look unnecessarily scary, and Rick can feel himself tense when they’re brought up to Daryl’s face. He’s on edge and he’s not even close to them, and the gleam in Phillip’s eye doesn’t make him feel any more comfortable. Daryl whimpers, a clear tremble running through his body as he’s held steady by the head collar, the bolt cutters brought up to where the ear tag hangs from his right ear and roughly cutting through it. Rick’s fist clenches around the leash as he watches Daryl flinch, Phillip’s fingers roughly yanking free the plastic tag and tossing it to the ground before moving on to the other ear to do the same. It must hurt, he can see blood dripping off of Daryl’s ear and down his neck, but Rick knows it must be done.

New owner; new tags.

He’s handed new blank ones, yellow plastic ready to be filled in with his details, lines ready to have his signature scrawled on them to claim his ownership over his new stud. Rick pockets them, because he might not be well versed in this world, but he knows he can’t attach them himself.

Phillip looks even more smug when his fingers are smudged with Daryl’s blood, and it makes an anger churn in Rick’s stomach to see it. “See you at the next market Rick Grimes. I look forward to seeing how much money he’s lost you.” The smirk is so damned smug, full of bitterness and an arrogance Rick wants to stamp on. Maybe he’s not got a clue how to be a breeder, but a part of him wants to learn just to piss off this cruel man.

Tucking the file beneath his arm, he doesn’t care to waste his breath on the other man any longer. Instead he turns on his heel, gives a good tug on the leash and begins walking away, trying not to pause when Daryl gives a loud whimper before following. Heading out and away from the auction tent, he can barely believe what he’s done. Instead of coming out here and living a quiet, safe life, he’s gone and bought a godamned stud from death row. He has no clue what the fuck he’s doing. All he knows is he’s lost as hell. A vegetable farm was one thing, but having a stock human to care for? How does he end up getting himself into these messes?

Heading back to his truck, he finds Daryl following dutifully, not at all slowed down by the mud or the fact that he’s on his hands and knees. Rick supposes a lifetime of practice makes it easier. He can’t help but look down to watch the stock human lope alongside him. Daryl is naked as is commonplace for the other breed of human, he’s covered in dirt, his hair is a little matted at the back, but other than the few bruises on his side, he looks to be healthy enough. But what does he know? He’s never really seen a stock human up close before, sure there have been pets he’s seen, but pet stock humans were different to breeding studs. God he’s so lost right now.

Opening the back door, he tosses the file inside before patting at the seat, looking down to Daryl and wondering if he’s ever even been in the backseat of a vehicle before. The poor stud had been part of a pack before, and usually larger numbers of breeding stock were transported in vans or livestock boxes. Running his tongue over his lips, he shifts in place a bit, tugging at the leash to try and coax Daryl to go where he wants him. “Come on. In you get now.” Daryl looks a bit unsure, but he does as he’s told, climbing into the backseat carefully with his head ducked, hair covering his face. Tossing the leash inside behind Daryl, he shuts the door of the truck, leaving himself able to let out a sigh of worry as he looks to the heavens.

What the fuck has he gotten himself into?

“Hershel?” He doesn’t know many people in town, but he knows exactly who he can go to for help. On the other end of the phone he can hear Hershel’s smile in his greeting, and he knows he can rely on the other man to do his best to help him through this. “Hi, it’s Rick. I um…” Glancing through the back window of the truck he can see Daryl tense on the seat, looking wary and unsure of himself. He looks about as comfortable as Rick feels. “I kind of made an impulse buy at the market and I could use some advice. Well more than advice, I could do with some help. A lot of help.”

The older man gives a small laugh down the phone line, but it’s not condescending, more just affectionate. Rick barely knows the other man, but he knows that he can trust Hershel Greene to help him out when he needs it. “Sounds like you should come over on the way home. Bring this impulse buy with you and we’ll see how we can help you out. What is it? Some exotic vegetable that needs special food?”

God if only. “Not exactly. I uh… you…you’re a vet right?” He knows Hershel is. He’s seen the man’s study, seen the caring nature he has with animals, and he knows he can trust Hershel to give him good, solid advice, as well as hopefully some hands on assistance.

“I am.” There is a brief pause, and Hershel sounds amused when he continues. “Did you go and get yourself a piglet or something Rick? Thinking yourself a real farmer already?” A small laugh follows, clearly Hershel thinking he would have done something small, something that would only take a little learning to fix. He feels guilty when he speaks again.

“Something a bit bigger than a piglet Hershel.” How was he going to explain this? He’d come out here for a quiet life, an easy life, one free of problems, and he’d gone and bought a potential big problem for fifty bucks. Taking a breath he tries to think of the best way to approach this, how to explain that he’s gone and been an utter idiot. “You’ve…you’ve got breeding stock haven’t you?” He decides is easiest. Better to break his way in gently.

“Yes I have…” Hershel pauses, Rick can almost hear it all fall into place and he feels so bad for putting this all on the other man’s shoulders. But he’s so lost, and he really does need the help right now. For what it’s worth, Hershel doesn’t sound disappointed with him, just a little exasperated. “Oh… Oh I see. Why don’t you come on over and we’ll take a look at what you’ve bought.”

Rick sighs with relief, thanking whoever was answering his prayers with such a kind and helpful neighbour. It’s a relief, he has somewhere to go with this, and he knows between them they should be able to get it all worked out. It was a start. “Thanks, I’ll be there soon.” He tells him, hanging up the phone and getting into the truck, starting it up and glancing in the rear view mirror.

Daryl looks lost. The stud is hunched over in the backseat, not sitting properly, but more on his hands and knees and curling as low as he can against the cushions. He looks afraid, uncertain, like he’s somewhere he has never been before. The bruises and whip marks on his skin look even more stark now he’s not low to the ground and out of Rick’s line of sight. Mud coats his hands and knees, legs and arms splattered with it, thick smears of the stuff getting all over the seats beneath him. Rick watches as Daryl flinches, trying to place his hands in the exact same spot, trying to reduce the area getting covered in mud, and clearly afraid of making a mess. It’s not like Rick cares, mud will come out, and right now he can see how out of place Daryl feels.

“Hey it’s…it’s okay Daryl.” He keeps his voice low and soothing, no anger there at all. He has a feeling Daryl’s not been spoken to in such a manner in a long time. “You don’t have to be afraid of me. I’m Rick okay? Your new owner. I’m gonna take care of you from now on alright?” He tells him, even though he knows there won’t be a verbal response since stud humans can’t talk. But Daryl does glance up to him greasy hair in front of his eyes, there is a tiny twitch, a half nod, and Rick tries to smile gently in return to let him know it’s okay.

It doesn’t seem to relax Daryl very much, he’s still tense, still hunched over on the back seat and clearly not comfortable enough to lie down or get settled. But he’s still, he’s not whining, and Rick figures it’s good enough for the moment.

“We’re gonna go home in a while. There is a kennel attached to my house that will be your new home, a place just for you alright?” Rick doesn’t know why he’s still talking as he drives, but maybe it will give Daryl as much comfort as it gives him. Talking things through has always made things feel calmer for him, like he has a plan. “But first we’re gonna go to Hershel’s. He’s a vet, gonna get him to check you over and make sure everything is okay with you.”

There is a whine from the backseat, Daryl hunches down further, curling in on himself into the fabric of the seats, and Rick can see when the stud’s trembling becomes more pronounced. Instantly he knows what he’s done and feels awful for it, shaking his head and watching Daryl in the rear view mirror as he continues driving, unable to give any physical comfort right now.

“Hey no, no, no, not like that Daryl. Not like that.” He tries to explain, feeling like an idiot for not thinking about what he was saying. Of course Daryl was going to be afraid of a potential vet visit, the poor creature had just been threatened with being euthanized not a few minutes ago. “You’re not gonna be… I’m not going to have you put down. I just want Hershel to check you over and make sure you’re not hurt too badly. Your old owner kicked you pretty hard, I want to make sure nothing is broken.” He tries to soothe the stock human, wishing he were more sure of himself and what he was doing. Stock humans were commonplace, he’s seen enough of them to be familiar with them being around, but seeing them and owning one was two different things.

In the backseat, Daryl is watching him in the mirror, eyes still half hidden behind greasy strands of hair, but clearly unsure. Afraid, lost and confused, a stud human with an owner who has no idea what the hell he’s doing. Of course the poor thing is lost; so is Rick. But it’s his job to take care of Daryl now, he’s his owner, it’s his duty to make sure he’s healthy, not hurt, and make sure his stock human is well. Hence the vet visit. Maybe he’s new to all of this, but like when you first get a pet, he knows a vet visit should be one of the first things he gets done. For Daryl’s safety and his own.

“It’s okay, it’s okay buddy.” Rick can’t help but want to soothe the stock human, Daryl looks so afraid and almost certain that nothing good can come of this. It’s not the best way to start out their relationship as breeding stud and owner, and he wants to rectify it as best he can. “We’re just gonna go see Hershel and he can make sure you’re okay, and help me out too. I’ve uh… I’ve never had a breeding stud before. Never had a stock human before to be honest. So we’re both new to this, but Hershel will make sure we’re both ready to learn okay?”

There is no reply, not that he thought there would be from a stock human, but Daryl isn’t looking at him with that bright fear anymore, and he’ll consider that a success. It doesn’t take much longer to pull in to Hershel’s farm, even from the other end of the drive he can see Hershel waiting for them on the porch. Already there is a smile on the old man’s face, and Rick knows that his kindly neighbour will do anything to try and help him out. It makes him smile, makes the knot of fear loosen in his chest, and he feels like he can breathe a little easier as he pulls up and parks the car.

Hopping out of the car, he nods to Hershel, the anxious nerves making him feel the need to keep moving forward. “Thank you so much for this Hershel.” He says again, feeling so damned grateful and like no amount of thanks can ever convey just how much he appreciates this. “I just… He was going to be put down and I couldn’t let that happen.” Rick explains. Of course Hershel is smiling, looking so understanding, and almost a little like he’s proud of the decision Rick had made to save an innocent creature from death.

“Bring him inside to my examination room. Let’s take a look at what you’ve bought and go from there.” Hershel says.

Rick nods and heads to the car, opening up the back door and trying to make sure he keep things calm and simple for Daryl to follow. “Hey bud, we’re here.” He keeps his voice low and soft, making sure Daryl doesn’t feel wary or afraid. The stud still looks a little unsure, head ducked, hair in front of his eyes, but he’s listening, watching Rick for instructions. “Come on, Hershel is going to give you a check up, make sure you’re healthy and ready to come live with me.” He picks up the paper work along with the end of the leash again, and Rick is pleased when he doesn’t have to even tug on it to get Daryl to slip out of the car, ready to follow him.

The stud stays close to his side as they walk, Daryl loping along on his hands and knees, clearly interested in the surroundings as they pass. There are other studs on the farm, a few out in the fields getting some fresh air, but Rick knows the majority of Hershel’s pack are inside the barn in their kennels. It seems Daryl can smell them, he’s sniffing at the air, pausing a little in their walk to look over at the barn and the fields, and Rick wonders if Daryl is going to miss living in a pack. Still he gives him a moment, lets him smell and snuffle at the new scents before whistling for Daryl to follow him again. His stud obeys, keeping to heel as they head up onto the porch.

There is a moment’s hesitation at the front door, where Daryl looks to him for guidance, clearly a stud that’s never been allowed inside a house before and is afraid of reprimand. So Rick makes sure to nod, stepping inside first, leading Daryl inside by the leash and headcollar, giving him someone to follow when he feels unsure. The examination room is just inside the house, it’s the one Hershel uses for his own studs as well as those other stock humans kept in their small town. He knows Hershel is a respected vet, and even if he knows nothing of owning a stud, he knows he needs to have Daryl seen by a vet before he even thinks of using him as a stud properly.

Hershel is already set up for the examination, latex gloves on, everything set up and ready to check Daryl over. Rick leads Daryl over to the table, placing the paperwork on the corner before patting for Daryl to climb up on top. It seems that Daryl knows the drill, because his stud is already clambering up, settling himself onto his hands and knees between them and not looking as afraid as before. Rick is pleased that his words seem to have comforted Daryl a little, at least he could give him some kind of ease from his fears.

“So you went and bought yourself a stud Rick.” Hershel sounds amused by it all, a small smile on his face beneath his beard as he picks up the paperwork and begins flicking through it. Rick watches as he reads through it all, nodding occasionally and he hopes that means everything is all right. “Well everything here seems in order, but I can’t help but notice you bought him for fifty dollars. That’s not exactly the sign of a decent stud, but then I see his lineage and name and it doesn’t match up.”

“You’ve heard of the Dixon line before?” Daryl’s previous owner had mentioned his name, had said it was the only reason he’d kept him around for so long. And if Hershel has heard of them then it meant he wasn’t just making shit up.

“Yes. Decent enough, good for breeding workers, strong and hardy types. It’s why it’s strange to hear he was going to be put down.” Hershel muses out loud, plucking out some of the medical papers and setting them aside to be filled in afterwards. “Even stranger that someone would sell him on for such a low price.”

Rick gives a shrug at it all. He’d just wanted to stop a stud from being put down, and he had done that. It didn’t matter to him if Daryl was a top breeder or just a low rung stud, as far as he was concerned, he’d saved a life and that was what was important. “I just didn’t think he deserved to be put down.” He tells Hershel, fidgeting with the leash still in his grip and unable to look the stud in the eye. “Figured whatever life I could give him was better than none.”

“You’re a good man Rick.” And he can’t help but feel a lot of pride when Hershel says that. He’s left the city, moved away from the hustle and bustle, left all of what he’d worked for behind to come here. Maybe he’s not perfect, but he likes to think that he has his heart in the right place. It seems Hershel thinks that of him, and he has a lot of respect for the older man and his word. If he thinks Rick has made the right choice, then he’ll accept it. Now he just has to live with his decision.

“Well good man or not, I don’t know anything about owning a stud.” He points out, and if nothing else he wants to make sure that he learns enough to keep Daryl comfortable and happy. “So I could use a lot of help if you’d be willing to give it?”

“Of course.” True to his nature, Hershel is a giving man, and Rick knows he won’t be turned away from anything he needs to get started. “But for now, let’s check over your stud and see that everything here is in order.”

He nods, and turns his attention back to the stud between them. Daryl has his gaze averted to the tabletop, but as soon as Hershel moves to remove the head collar, he flinches at the slightest touch. Immediately Rick is hushing him, hands rushing out to grab at Daryl’s shoulders, trying to keep him steady and calm the worry inside of him. “Hershel are you sure? I mean he hasn’t acted vicious or anything but…” Daryl gives a whine, and Rick watches as the stud tries to shrink down and make himself smaller, a tiny tremble running through his whole body.

Hershel gives a shake of his head and doesn’t stop for a second in unbuckling the headcollar from around Daryl’s head. The whole time the vet keeps up a quiet hushing noise, his fingers gentle as he teases free where Daryl’s hair is caught in the buckles. The headcollar falls free, the straps that had been criss crossing Daryl’s face finally gone, the leash attached as Hershel sets it away, leaving Daryl completely naked before them. The stud shakes himself all over, giving a huff, but when Hershel’s hands move to pet him gently, the flinch is nowhere near as bad as before.

Rick has to admit that he’s impressed. A part of him had been afraid to see how Daryl would react without the headcollar on him, and without that line of control, how would Rick be able to keep him in line? But Daryl doesn’t seem likely to bolt or act aggressive, instead he still seems very wary. Rick can see as he watches them both, eyes darting between them, seemingly trying to be ready for whatever was coming. He looks afraid, and Rick hates that maybe under his previous ownership, Daryl had had good reason to be afraid. The bruises and whip marks over his ribs and back attest to that thought.

“Okay let’s get started shall we?” Hershel says, and Rick doesn’t know if he should step back and watch the man work, but he wants to be here, and he wants to help if he can. “Daryl?” The stud looks up, reacting to his name immediately and Rick can see Hershel smile at that. “Good. Just a basic non-verbal assessment, since Daryl can’t speak we need to make sure he’s attentive and can understand us easily. Following my instructions shows us that he can follow a conversation and understand English well enough.” Rick nods, taking note and already trying to make sure he learns what he needs to learn, what he needs to know.

Daryl seems pretty bright and alert, watching as Hershel moves his hands to the stud’s head to begin his top to toe inspection. The vet runs his fingers through Daryl’s hair, parting it, checking over his scalp lightly, moving all over to check every inch. “Good, no signs of lice. His hair is in decent condition aside from a few knots, and his general hygiene appears decent enough for a stud. Can’t see any abrasions or any bumps on his head to be worried about.” Hershel tells him, and when he’s done with checking Rick can’t help but smile when he sees the man pet through Daryl’s hair a couple of times. “I’ll give you some delousing powder to use for the first week or so. He may appear clean but it’s always a good idea to delouse for the first week or so with a new stud.”

Rick nods, and watches as Hershel continues in his assessment, plucking out a torch from his pocket before clicking his fingers for Daryl’s attention. “Daryl? Eyes on me.” Hershel instructs, and Daryl seems more than capable of following orders, looking up to meet Hershel’s gaze. “Good boy. Now I’m just going to shine a light in his eyes to check contractility.” Rick can’t help but chuckle a little when Daryl huffs at the bright light, but his stud still does as Hershel asks and follows the light from side to side, then up and down with his eyes. “Good, good boy. Everything seems alright there.” Again Daryl gets petted after Hershel puts the torch away, and Rick enjoys the small hum of clear enjoyment Daryl gives over it all.

The flinches seem to have stopped, and Rick is pleased at that. Daryl seems at ease on Hershel’s table, and even when the vet moves to check his nose and mouth, Daryl doesn’t jerk away or snap. It can’t be comfortable to have someone open your mouth and check your teeth, but Daryl doesn’t snarl or fuss, he just huffs when he’s released and opens and closes his mouth a few times. Rick smiles, reaching out to pet at Daryl’s hair when Hershel moves to gather some tools. “Good boy.” Rick tells the stud, running his fingers through Daryl’s hair a few times, stroking him and when his stud leans into the touches with a soft pant, he feels like maybe this will be worth all the stress in the end. “Good boy Daryl.”

His stud almost purrs, pressing into his petting for a moment before Hershel is back in place and looking to continue the assessment. A small leather strap is held in front of Daryl’s mouth, and the stud looks a little confused until Hershel is giving him easy to follow instructions. “Bite down on this for me, as hard as you can.” Daryl complies, giving a tiny growl as he sinks his teeth into the leather, biting as hard as he can until Hershel nods for him to stop. “Good job, nice and strong.” Again the vet cradle’s Daryl’s jaw, gently tilting his head up and running a hand over his throat. “Swallow for me a few times. Good boy.” Hershel feels each movement, tracking the muscles as they move and nodding when there appear to be no disruptions or problems. He feels over his glands, runs his fingers over all of Daryl’s throat before moving to take up a tongue depressor. “Okay one last nasty bit.” The vet opens Daryl’s mouth once more, pressing his tongue down, shining the torch inside his mouth for a final check before pushing the depressor back far enough until Daryl gags once. “There we go gag reflex is fine.” Hershel removes everything from his mouth, letting Daryl snort and shake his head to get over the discomfort of having that reflex checked.

He keeps his hands on Daryl’s head as Hershel begins moving down Daryl’s body, using the stethoscope to listen to his lungs. Rick spends the time petting Daryl again, getting behind his ears and watching as the stud leans into each touch. It’s sweet, Daryl almost purrs as he continues petting him, head butting at his hands when he stops and clearly not even concerned with what Hershel is doing.

“All right, everything sounds good. No crackle in the lungs, a nice strong heartbeat and everything sounds to be in working order through his digestive tract.” Hershel tells him, giving Rick an encouraging smile as he comes back to stand beside him. “It’s good for you to do this, you need to bond with him, he’s your stud now Rick, and from the looks of the bruises on his sides, he’s not exactly had a nice owner before now.”

Rick nods, and he remembers watching that asshole kick at Daryl in the mud before, and beat him with the riding crop. The welts on his back still look sore and red. “Well he’s not got to worry about that from now on.” He figures he’s telling Daryl as much as he’s telling Hershel, and he can hear the tiny huff Daryl gives, hopefully in agreement. “I’m going to do my best to look after him as well as possible.”

“Good. I’m sure Daryl is looking forward to it.” Hershel smiles, looking proud of him already. Rick can’t help but like that smile. “Now let’s continue this check up, Daryl could you sit up for me? Legs hanging off the table please, there’s a good boy.” Daryl complies, shifting and moving so he can sit on the edge of the table, looking a little unsure from being off of his hands and knees. When he looks uneasy, Daryl moves to headbutt at Rick’s shoulder, nudging for him, moving closer to him and seeming to take comfort when Rick moves back to petting him. It seems to make Daryl feel better, and he likes that he can be a comfort to the stud.

The assessment goes on, Hershel directing Daryl to squeeze his fingers, to push and pull, to lift his arms up and down and show the full range of movement he has in them. Everything seems to be fine, with Hershel commenting that the Dixon line is known for strength and Daryl’s muscles clearly show that he’s going to be good to stud out. The vet moves on to Daryl’s legs, again making him pull and push against his grip, lifting them and checking his reflexes are within the normal range. They all check out, and again Rick can’t help but coo to Daryl, calling him a good boy for doing so well and following Hershel’s instructions.

“He does show some signs of previous abuse Rick, but I’m sure you’ve worked that out for yourself. The bruises are healing, he doesn’t appear to have anything broken or healing from a previous break, but make sure to keep an eye on him. If you find anything that worries you just bring him back over and we’ll see what we can do.” Hershel tells him and Rick nods along in understanding. He thought it was obvious that Daryl was abused previously, but he was his stud now, and Rick would make sure that he never had to go through anything like that again. Now he was Rick’s stud, and he’d be looked after as well as he could do it.

“I’ll take care of him.” And it’s a promise he says out loud so all three of them can hear it and know it’s true.

“Alright, now we need to take some numbers down.” Hershel continues, taking up a blood pressure cuff to strap around Daryl’s arm. The stud huffs at it, sniffing over the band in interest as Rick continues petting him, trying to keep his attention out of Hershel’s way as he begins pumping the cuff up. “It’ll pinch a little, just got to get your blood pressure.” Rick watches as the cuff inflates and he can feel Daryl tense as it begins to tighten around him, clearly a little afraid at the unknown. But he keeps him steady, hushing him and quieting him when he whimpers, easing him through it until Hershel has listened to his pulse and got his pressure written down. “That’s all fine, nothing to worry about.”

When the cuff is released Daryl gives a huff, clearly not impressed with having his blood pressure taken. Hershel places a hand to Daryl’s forehead for a few seconds before deeming it unnecessary to take his temperature. Rick thinks they must be just about done, but it seems he really is a novice at this, because Hershel clearly is nowhere near finished.

“Now we need some samples to send off.” The vet tells him with a nod, bringing over some vials, a couple of screw top sample containers and worryingly, a needle. Daryl seems to see the needle first, and there is the tiniest of growls that falls from his throat.

“Samples?” Rick asks.

Hershel nods, seemingly used to the sound of a growl and the tensing of Daryl’s body, clearly a man used to studs being wary of needles. “Daryl is a breeding stud. He needs to have frequent checks to ensure that his stock is up to code. It’s illegal to sell stock that could be HIV+ or that could be infectious with STDs or the like. He’s got the paperwork from his previous checks to say that he is clean and clear, but whenever a stud gets a new owner, he needs new paperwork to go with it.” It’s clear that Hershel has gone through this speech before, probably had to make sure everyone in the town is up to code and following the strict rules that breeding stud humans has behind it. “As this is his first check we need to take a few samples. Blood first.”

Daryl gives a small snarl at that, trying to squirm his way back and out of their grip. Hershel is ready for it, nodding for Rick to take a firmer grasp on Daryl as he keeps a steadying grip on Daryl’s wrist. “Hey, hey, hey…” Rick hushes him, wrapping an arm around the stud’s chest and keeping him steady as Hershel begins prepping him for the needle. “It’s okay, it’s just a little needle. It’s okay, just a little scratch and then it’s over.” He tries to calm him down, cooing to him and letting Daryl bury his face into his neck with a whimper. The stud is trembling a little, clearly not happy, but he stops trying to escape, and instead just hides himself away in Rick’s neck with a whine. As soon as he’s steady Hershel wraps the elastic strap around his upper arm and inserts the needle, and Rick continues the steady litany of coos and calming words.

It doesn’t take long for the vial to be attached and the blood to start filling it. The whole time Daryl stays hidden in his neck, huffing and clearly not happy, but at least he’s not bolting or ripping the needle loose and causing himself damage. Hershel hushes him, taking what he needs before removing the needle, stopping the tiny needle prick with a cotton ball and taping it in place. “There we go, good job.” The vet tells the stud, and Rick helps remove the elastic strap while Hershel labels and sets aside the sample.

“See? No big deal.” Rick coos in Daryl’s ear, but the stud doesn’t move away, instead he huffs and stays where he is, only shifting to move back onto his hands and knees on the table. Daryl doesn’t seem impressed, Rick can’t blame him, he can’t think of anybody who likes being poked with a needle. “What else Hershel?”

“Urine.” The vet tells him, opening up one of the larger sample cups before coming back over to the table. He holds it beneath Daryl’s penis, patting at Daryl’s side a little before continuing. “Daryl, I need you to pee for me.” The stud whines into Rick’s neck, mouthing over the collar of his shirt with a tiny hum of clear confusion. Thankfully Hershel seems able to understand, and there is a moment where he gives a small laugh before guiding Daryl through it. “I know, you’re fully housetrained and then someone comes and tells you to pee inside. It’s okay, I just need enough for a sample, you’re not going to make a mess or be punished for it.”

It doesn’t seem that Hershel’s coaxing is enough, and Rick figures that as Daryl’s new owner, he should probably be the one giving Daryl permission for these sorts of things. “Daryl.” He tries to keep his voice steady, even if he’s new to all of this and has never had to command someone to pee before, he knows he needs to start stepping up to the plate as an owner. “Go pee.” He commands, and it surprises him that it seems to work immediately. Daryl pees on command, face still buried in Rick’s neck, but listening and following his directions to fill the sample cup that Hershel has. When it’s done and capped, labelled and set aside, Rick actually feels pretty accomplished over such a small thing. “Good boy, good boy Daryl.” He praises, stroking through Daryl’s hair a little, and he swears he can feel the tiniest slip of a tongue against the skin of his neck from the stud.

“Alright, only one last thing to get done.” Hershel says, and when he meets the vet’s eyes, Rick can see that he’s saved the most intrusive part of the examination for last. “Daryl is a breeding stud. Seeing as his job is to mate with bitches, and give you stock to sell, it means he has to be checked intimately for any signs of infections or problems.” The vet says it in such a calm manner, as if this was just a part of the everyday, which Rick supposes it is really for a stud farmer.

His throat feels dry, but he tries to keep himself from sounding too ridiculous, after all this was going to be something he needed to get used to. “How uh… how intimately?” He asks, finding it difficult to meet Hershel’s eye. “Should I be here for this?”

Hershel gives a small sigh, moving his gloved hands over Daryl’s sides, down to his hips and moving to stand behind Daryl, at the opposite end of the table to Rick. “Rick, you are Daryl’s owner. This is your responsibility now and even if you’re new to it all, you’ve got to learn and learn fast.” There is no disrespect in Hershel’s words, it’s just the truth being laid out simple and right there before him. He appreciates it. He needs to learn this. “Now this is an essential part of owning a stud. Daryl is going to need you to understand how he works. He’s a stud, made for producing stock, his prostate gland is three times the size of yours, and he produces seminal fluid at a high rate. We have to keep tabs on the quality of his product, and to do that we need to inspect him intimately and take a sample to be sent off for tests.”

The vet is giving him clear and well stated rules to follow, and all Rick can do is nod and try to keep up with all the lessons he’s learning. He knows he’s bright red in the face, embarrassed about talking so casually about something so private, but that’s how humans think. How he thinks. It’s not how Daryl thinks. It’s not what it’s like for studs, and he needs to learn all of this. So he nods, he continues petting at Daryl’s hair where his stud’s face is buried in his neck, but he focuses on Hershel and the lesson he’s trying to learn. “So we need to check over… over everything, and then collect a sample.”

“Right. It’s an intimate examination, but it’s nothing Daryl hasn’t been through all his life. Being from the Dixon line he was probably already segregated to be a stud before he even hit puberty, so he’s used to being inspected. This is how you make your money as a breeder.” Hershel’s hands move easily, no hesitation because he knows what he’s doing, and Rick knows he needs to watch how it’s done. The vet moves carefully, skimming his hands up Daryl’s thighs to make him spread his legs further, before moving on to his cock.

Hershel palms over the uncut length and pushes back Daryl’s foreskin to check beneath. Rick can’t help but be a little intrigued, all stock human males had their cocks left uncut unless for medical reasons circumcision was needed, and it’s very different to his own. He’s seen his fair share of dicks in his life from previous relationships, but they’ve all belonged to other humans, not to the stock kind. Daryl mewls against his neck, the stud shifts a little as Hershel runs his fingers over his length, the vet swabbing at the tip with a cotton bud before capping it to be sent off for tests. The whole time Hershel hums and coos, giving small encouragements to the stud and making sure to be careful and slow as he continues his inspection.

The whole time Rick keeps Daryl buried in his neck, his fingers weaved into the thick hair on his head and petting him lightly. His stud seems calm enough, only twitching a shifting a little when Hershel palms over his cock. Rick feels a little out of place watching such a thing, especially when Daryl’s cock begins getting hard, noticeably twitching and lengthening as Hershel checks his length. His stud mewls again, Daryl’s fingers come up to latch in Rick’s shirt, holding onto Rick in return, seeming to be looking for something to steady himself when his body trembles a little. It’s awkward, and Rick can’t help the heat that he feels on the back of his neck at being present for such a thing.

“Everything uh… everything feeling okay?” He doesn’t know why he asks. Maybe he wants to seem like an owner with a clue, or maybe he just wants to fill the awkward silence between them that’s only being broken with the soft sound of Daryl’s mewling into his neck.

The vet nods, and Rick supposes he shouldn’t be surprised that this isn’t affecting Hershel the same way as it’s affecting him. This is just business, it’s just the way things are for studs, and he knows it’s stupid of him to feel embarrassed for Daryl. The stud doesn’t seem at all shy about being hard, Daryl just moans and nuzzles into his neck more, and Rick knows this was just a part of life for being a stud. Daryl is made to get hard. He’s made to produce quality stock on a regular basis, and the enlarged prostate gland definitely attests to that. The stud is made to breed with bitches, to impregnate them and produce decent offspring to be sold on. Daryl’s body is just made to do this, and Rick knows he shouldn’t be so affected by it.

So when he watches as Hershel moves to cradle Daryl’s balls, rolling them gently in his palm and clearly checking for anything that could be a problem, he tries to keep it professional. He tries not to seem so affected by watching another male get fondled and stroked to hardness. It seems there are no problems, because the vet moves on, and the whole time Daryl has been calm enough. Daryl is still mewling, panting into Rick’s neck, making his skin warm and wet with each breath, but he’s not trying to pull away or buck out of their grip. But then Hershel moves to take up a sample cup and a bottle of lubricant, and Rick can feel as Daryl quivers slightly into his neck. “Will it hurt him?” He asks, and there is the tiniest of chuckles from Hershel as he slicks up his fingers. Rick’s been with men before, but he’s never been on the receiving end of anything, and though he’s seen people enjoy it, he still can’t help but be unsure.

“No. Quite the opposite in fact.” Hershel gives a small chuckle as he prepares himself. There is the slick sound of fingers being wetted with lubricant, Rick can see as Hershel moves his fingers into position, and then there is a deep groan against his neck when he presses inside. Daryl shifts, his fingers tightening in their grip on Rick’s shirt, and he can feel the slight tremble that runs through the stud. “There we go, good boy.” Hershel coos, wriggling his fingers into position and from what he sees the vet is right, Daryl does enjoy it.

His stud’s cock twitches and jerks against Daryl’s belly, hard and already beginning to leak a string of precome onto the table as Hershel adds pressure to Daryl’s prostate. There is a low moan into his neck, Daryl huffing and whining a little as he presses back onto Hershel’s fingers. It’s clear that this is anything but painful for him, and Rick knows he must be blushing like an idiot just at getting to hear the sounds of pleasure Daryl is making. He can feel the heat in his face, and Rick can’t help but watch as Daryl’s body reacts to more pleasure.

“Very good Daryl.” Hershel coos, still with two fingers deep inside the stud’s hole, massaging over his prostate easily. Daryl moans, and Rick can feel his hot panting over his neck, the noises of pleasure slipping free so easily with each of Hershel’s movements. “Some studs don’t like prostate stimulation, but we need to be able to check for any abnormalities there.” Hershel tells him, and Rick nods even if his eyes are caught over watching Daryl’s thighs tremble as his cock leaks another thick string of precome. “Everything feels clear, now we just need the sample. Milking your stud this way tends to keep the sample clear of any cross contamination with lubricants or anything on your fingers.”

Rick knows this is a lesson as much as it is a check up, but though he nods and looks like he’s paying attention, really he’s nothing but distracted. How can he not be when Daryl is moaning and panting against him, his cock so hard and dripping, showing his arousal so clearly. It’s a gorgeous sight, and even if he knows it’s not supposed to be hot as hell, that doesn’t stop it being amazing to watch. Not only is he flushed, he’s also hard just watching, and he’s so glad that he’s on the other side of Daryl and hidden from Hershel’s view. He should be ashamed of himself, this wasn’t meant to be sexy, it was just business, but he just can’t help himself.

“Good boy.” He mutters to Daryl, fingers still combing through his hair, and he loves the tiny mewl he gets it return. Rick can feel the wet touch of Daryl’s tongue over his skin, the slick dribble of his drool slipping free to dampen his neck when Daryl pants in pleasure. “Come on Daryl, come on.” He coaxes, able to feel every tremble and quake of his stud’s body.

Hershel already has the sample pot in position, and though he continues manipulating Daryl’s prostate with his fingers on one hand, the other hand is easily able to hold Daryl’s cock steady. It doesn’t take long, and it seems with Rick’s encouragement and Hershel’s fingers, Daryl can easily find his release. The stud trembles in his grip, giving a feeble thrust of his hips and a loud whine into his neck when he comes hard. Rick’s never seen a stud come before, or of he has it’s only ever been during a mating and for obvious reasons that means he didn’t get to see a lot. But he can see now, and it’s both hot and interesting at the same time. Daryl’s hard cock pulses in Hershel’s grip, spilling thick spurts of come into the sample pot, but it’s nothing like Rick’s own orgasms. It goes on for a while, every time he thinks Daryl can’t possibly have anything left, his balls clench and yet another stream of warm jizz falls into the cup.

He’s still petting Daryl through it all, able to feel the small groan against his neck as the stud comes, his balls clenching and sending another spurt of semen into the sample cup. Daryl is trembling, panting loudly and clearly enjoying himself as Hershel gives a few more pumps of his fingers, milking Daryl for every last drop he’s got before pulling away. “Good boy.” The vet says, removing his latex gloves and tossing them aside before taking up the sample cup and capping it. Rick can’t believe how full it is, thick, creamy come almost fills the entire thing, far more than he’s ever seen from just one orgasm. “Like I said, he’s a breeding stud Rick. This is what Daryl’s body is built to do, and from the looks of it you won’t have to worry about much. It’s a good healthy colour, good consistency and this is a more than adequate amount for a breeding stud. It’s still got to be sent off for tests before you sell any, but I can’t see any reason Daryl would be refused selling papers.”

Rick nods, his fingers still buried in Daryl’s hair and he’s grateful that Hershel can’t see that they’re shaking a little. It shouldn’t have been so hot to watch something like that, Hershel is clearly able to understand that this was just business, just a part of owning a stud, and he’s ashamed that he’s still hard over just watching Daryl come. Not that it’s a surprise. It’s been weeks since he’d last even thought of anything vaguely arousing, so really he can’t blame his body for reacting eagerly at the slightest thing. Besides, watching somebody else come was always kind of hot.

Daryl finally shifts in his hold, pulling away a little and giving an all over body shake before moving back to sit on his knees. The stud is flushed, but calm, and Daryl doesn’t seem at all phased by what had just happened. He sits on the examination table still, idly reaching down to stroke over his softening cock before raising his hand to his mouth, lapping at the last few drips of come from his fingers. To humans it’s lewd, it’s something that would be private, but to a stud it’s nothing but natural behaviour to clean themselves after a milking. Daryl isn’t ashamed in the slightest, licking at his palm and fingers before stroking over his softening cock again, glancing up to watch Rick watch him idly.

He averts his gaze, feeling embarrassed for the stud even if he knows he shouldn’t. His cock is still hard in his pants, and watching Daryl touch himself so casually isn’t helping the matter. But he knows it’s nothing, just how Daryl is meant to be, and how he’s meant to behave. It’s natural, and he’s the weird one for being affected by it. If there wasn’t enough evidence of him being new to this lifestyle, the way his body is reacting to something that should just be business, makes it obvious. Rick is grateful that Hershel stays to the side, labelling samples, setting everything into the kit that has to be sent off for tests and for Daryl to be registered as Rick’s property, and a stud able to sell his stock.

“Just one last thing to do for now.” Hershel tells him, coming back over to the table, sweeping his hands over Daryl’s sides and Rick can’t help but smile when the stud rumbles out a tiny purr. But Rick has a feeling that won’t last for long when Hershel holds out a hand to him expectantly. “Let’s get those tags attached.”

Reaching into his pocket Rick brings out the yellow tags Phillip had given him, and already Daryl is growling and backing up on the table away from him. He feels guilty already, but it’s a necessity. Stock humans cannot talk, and if Daryl should ever get lost the tags are a way of getting him back to his owner. As far as the world is concerned Daryl is property, and the tags are Rick’s proof of ownership and a way to keep his stock safe and sound. Taking the marker from Hershel, Rick signs on the dotted lines on the tags, passing them over for Hershel to add Daryl’s ID number and the date his new ownership began on to them.

“Does he really need them?” Rick asks, because Daryl clearly isn’t happy at the idea of having them attached again. The stud is rumbling out a low growl in protest, backing up as much as he can without falling off the table. “I mean it can’t feel nice to have them attached, and it’s not like there are many stock rustlers around these parts.”

For what it’s worth, Hershel does look to Daryl with sympathy, and Rick has a feeling that if he could refuse, he would. But as it is, Rick already knows the answer before Hershel says it out loud. “It’s the law Rick. All stock must be tagged.” The farmer reminds him, already picking up the piercing gun and slotting the tags into place, ready to be attached. “All I can do is try to get them through the same holes so it doesn’t hurt as much for him.” It’s more than most would do for a stud, and Rick is grateful for it.

Moving over to Daryl, he hushes him, moving his arms around the stud’s shoulders to keep him steady and stop him from trying to struggle away. Daryl clearly isn’t happy with it, but he doesn’t scratch or bite, he continues growling but there is no attempt to harm at least. He’s tense in Rick’s arms, and he can understand why. The blood from where Phillip had cut off Daryl’s previous tags is still present on his skin, dried and tacky on his ears where Hershel tries to keep him steady. But the farmer does keep his word, hushing Daryl, trying to coax him to be steady so Hershel can line up the piercing gun and attach the new tags using the same holes as before. It even seems to take Daryl by surprise, and the stud’s growling stops with a jolt when the tags are attached without any more blood being spilled.

Rick almost laughs, but instead he pets through Daryl’s hair again, careful not to get it caught on the newly attached tags as he coos over him. “See? That wasn’t so bad was it? Good boy.” Maybe Daryl can’t speak, but the small huff and way he ducks his head is more than enough to let Rick know how he feels.

“That’s all I need to do for the time being Rick, the rest is up to you now.” Hershel tells him, but thankfully the vet doesn’t stop there. A book is given to him and Rick has to snort out a laugh at the brightly coloured title on the cover. _Stud farming for dummies!_ Blunt but to the point, and definitely a good place to start for him. “If you want my advice, take that home and read it cover to cover, it should answer all of your questions, if not then you know where I am.”

Flicking through the book he can see more than enough information to keep him busy, as well as diagrams, pictures and yes he’s fairly certain he’ll have enough bedtime reading for the next month. Daryl shifts in his arms, sniffing at the book curiously before mouthing at the corner of it. Rick laughs and tugs it away, petting through his hair again before turning back to Hershel. “Thank you, for everything. It means a lot.”

Hershel is one of the few good men Rick has ever met, and he couldn’t be more grateful to have met him. “No problem. Now Maggie will give you some stock food to tide you over, we have a spare collar to save Daryl from wearing that awful head collar again, and we’ll give you some spare stock clothes too. He might not have experience with clothing before so don’t force him into anything Rick, he’ll let you know what he does and doesn’t need.” If you’d told Rick that there were people as kind as Hershel still left in the world a few months ago, he would have laughed. As it is, he’s so damned glad to have met him.

Daryl seems pleased to not have to put the head collar back on, snuffling at the collar and Maggie when she brings everything in for them. He seems pretty receptive to all the change going on around him, hopping off the table once he’s got his leash attached, and more than happy to follow Rick back out to the truck. The supplies go in the back with him, Daryl more than happy to sniff and mouth over the sealed food bag as Rick says his final farewells for the day to the Greene family.

“Hershel I can’t thank you enough for this. I mean I know it was an impulse buy and you didn’t have to help me out, but I am so, so grateful for everything.” There really aren’t enough words to let the vet know how much this all means to him. After a life of chaos and seeing the worst in people as a cop, getting to find some real, honest to God, kind people feels like a miracle. “If there is anything I can do for you, anything at all please-“

“I’ll let you know.” Hershel is beaming, a hand held up to stop him from continuing, but Rick has a feeling there would be no repayment necessary. That’s just the kind of person Hershel is. “Now go take Daryl home and get him settled in. Clean out the kennel, get him washed up, fed and let him get used to his new home. If you need anything at all Rick I’m only a phone call away.”

And that’s that. As if nothing out of the ordinary has happened today for Hershel, when in reality Rick’s whole life had gotten turned upside down. But as he gets into his truck and glances in the rear view mirror, watching Daryl mouth and attempt to get into the food bag, Rick thinks it’s worth it. The stock human was alive, healthy enough and looking at a future with him instead of being put down for some unknown reason. Whatever life he had to offer Daryl was going to be better than having his life ended prematurely by some asshole.

“Let’s go home huh bud?” He asks Daryl, and at least the stud doesn’t look anywhere near as anxious and on edge as he had earlier in the day. Instead he looks relaxed, lying on the backseat and chewing on the corner of the food bag as Rick drives them home.

**Author's Note:**

> Link to the wonderful kaicho224's art work here: http://kaicho224.tumblr.com/post/135191780635/livestock-daryl  
> http://kaicho224.tumblr.com/post/134860635040  
> http://kaicho224.tumblr.com/post/134731446920/doodle-livestock
> 
> AN: These wonderful pieces of art inspired me to create another AU. Originally this was intended to be a huge oneshot, as in 250k words in one big chapter. However, life happened and I wanted to share this first chunk with you guys since it's been sitting on my computer and gathering dust for about 7-8 months or so now. Can't tell you when this (or anything else) will be updated but you guys deserve something, and I've created such an elaborate AU for this that I wanted to share. 
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy, love to you all for sticking by me, for continuing to send love, support, and understanding through this annoying hiatus. I may not be able to enjoy it as often since my son arrived, but I love writing, and getting such amazing response really just about makes me the happiest person on earth. Love you all.


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